


Voices

by calimaslinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Child Abuse, Fluff, Grinding, Hate, Liam's an ass, M/M, Mental Instability, Schizophrenia, Smut, Top Zayn, Triggers, Violence, aka zayn is fucked up, drug usage, harry fights, love making, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calimaslinson/pseuds/calimaslinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's a troubled grocery clerk who just wants his life to end. Harry has the life Zayn's always wanted. Zayn desires to lure the boy in and destroy him. Harry may or may not fall in love with him. </p>
<p>Through Zayn's little plan of plotting to ruin Harry Styles' precious life, what can happen? </p>
<p>"Sanity and happiness are an impossible combination." -- Mark Twain</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is an intro to the story, to show you Zayn's life and show how he got to be where he is. This information is indeed necessary to the storyline. All feedback is welcome! THIS FIC MAY BE TRIGGERING, AS IT MAY INCLUDE SCENES OF GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEX, SELF-HARM, DRUG USAGE, AND MUCH MORE. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Zayn remembers the first time he was bullied. It was his first day of seventh grade. His mother had bought him a new outfit the day before and forced him to wear it. Sending your child to school in a sweater vest and corduroy bottoms was definitely not the smartest idea, and Zayn knew that, but he didn't dare say anything to her. In order to spare her feelings, he acted excited to wear the horrid outfit, even though his insides screamed at how badly he despised the clothing. That day, at the bus stop, four older teenagers, which he assumed were eighth graders, had approached him and stomped his feelings into the ground. He wanted to cry at how bad their words hurt, and they still sting his mind to this day. 

That incident had sparked on many more occasions of those same boys picking on Zayn. He remembers the worst like it had been only yesterday, although he wish he could forget. 

"Do you dress this way because you're poor, faggot?" The teenage boy named Trevor shouted at Zayn, causing an eruption of laughter from the group of kids standing at the bus stop.

"Does your mum not suck enough to get the money you need? Tell her I've got one right here, lad." The second boy, Michael, laughed out as he lowered his hand to grip his crotch.

Zayn's fists balled up in pure rage, he couldn't stand when people insulted his mother. "Shut up, shut up!" Zayn screamed in return, taking a step towards the bullies. 

"Oh, look, he's a tough man now!" The third boy, whose name Zayn never found out, hissed through his teeth. 

All four of the boys closed in on Zayn. The group of kids around them roared with excitement, encouraging the teenagers further. Zayn was closed in. He couldn't escape. And that's when everything went black.

He ended up with a broken nose and some minor bruises. He couldn't defend himself, as he didn't know how. His mum called the principal, despite Zayn's begging of her not to, and that made the bullying much worse. 

Zayn was beaten up on a daily basis. He would steal his mum's makeup to hide it, but his mum knew. He wouldn't tell a soul, they'd only hurt him worse. 

Zayn remembers how the bullying drove him practically insane. He remembers the day he picked up the razor blade for the first time. The memory haunts him, as it was the first of many times he would slice his skin just to feel the pain, and to release his inner frustrations. It was his only relief. He hid that very well. He only marked up his thighs, which were always hidden behind his school uniform. 

It wasn't until his mum actually walked in on him with the razor in his hand that he found out. He remembers how she cried and she begged him to stop. But he didn't. 

Of course, she signed him up for help. She took him to see a psychiatrist who diagnosed him with depression and sent him home with a prescription of a medicine he couldn't even pronounce. He didn't take them. He'd pretend to swallow them, but spit them out in the kitchen sink when nobody was watching. Zayn knew they wouldn't help him. Nobody could at that point. 

At 18, Zayn remembers, he was kicked out of his house. His mum had caught him with a joint of marijuana. He had started that habit when he was 16, just to numb a little of the emotional pain he had felt every day. And he tried to explain his reasoning to his mum, but she wouldn't listen. That's how he ended up on his own. 

He lived in the homeless shelter for six months. It embarrassed him to the core. He lost everything; his family, his belongings, his sense of self. He didn't know how he would make it on his own, and he spent many nights crying, wondering how and when his life would get any better. 

That's how Zayn ended up here, working at the local grocery store as a cashier. It doesn't pay much, but it helps him pay the bills. He isn't happy with how his life is, but damn, it's a start. Nobody wants to be working as a store clerk at 21, making minimum wage, dealing with rude older ladies and crying babies, but he has to do it in order to make a living. 

He doesn't question when things will get better anymore, he just waits until the day he won't have to be on the Earth anymore.


	2. Shift in Shifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty short. I apologize ahead of time.

Soft almost inaudible snores and exhales sound through the small apartment bedroom as Zayn sleeps, his droopy eyes fluttered closed. It's completely dark, except for the beam of light shining through the drawn, red velvet colored curtains. All is well for Zayn, as he's getting the rest his body so needs, until the faint noise of buzzing fills through the air. Zayn jolts awake, sleepily rummaging through his bed to find his cell phone before answering it.

"Mm, hello?" Zayn asks in his groggy, sleep-ridden voice. 

"Yeah, Zayn? It's Tiffany. We've had to make a last minute schedule change. You've now got the morning shift, could you possibly come in at eight?" Tiffany's high pitched voice rings through the speaker of the phone. 

Zayn wants to tell her off, oh, he wants to tell her that it's rude of her to call him that early to bring him in on such short notice. But he sucks it up, because he has to, and he replies as calmly as he can, "Of course I can, I'll be there soon, Tiffany." 

And he does just that. He drinks an extra cup of coffee that morning before he heads off to the dreaded market. They place him on a different register than usual, but it doesn't faze him. Nothing fazes him anymore. 

Zayn spends the day giving phony greetings and plastered on smiles to the few customers who come into his line, that is, until a rowdy young man steps into his line. 

Zayn gets a good look at the boy, and instantly, he's disgusted. He has his darker, chocolate colored locks pulled back into a rather worn-out beanie that Zayn couldn't tell the shade of. Maybe pink? His bright green eyes scream of happiness, something that Zayn himself has never acquired. He's tall, a bit too tall, and he doesn't have much meat on his bones. He's wearing what looks like an outfit that's fresh from the Abercrombie line, but Zayn couldn't tell. Zayn sees what he's throwing onto the conveyor belt; three cases of Bud Light, a bottle of Platinum Vodka, a much bigger bottle of Jack Daniels, and a box of Koeze's chocolates. 

The worst of all, the lad couldn't stop humming the tune of You're Beautiful by James Blunt -- who even remembers that song anymore? Zayn does his best to check out the younger man as fast as he can, just to get him out of his face. 

But the man couldn't stop staring at Zayn, and it sort of freaked Zayn out. The way those emerald hues seem to gaze into Zayn's soul, as cheesy and obnoxious as it sounds, makes Zayn feel all too uncomfortable. 

"Ahem, could I get a pack of Marlboro reds as well?" The lad speaks up in a husky and slow voice after clearing his throat. 

Zayn nods and reaches behind him to grab what was asked, "I'm going to need to see your I.D. for all of this, sir."

The lad whips out a leather wallet and hands his I.D. to Zayn before retorting with a chuckle, "The name's Harry." 

Zayn realizes that as he sees the identification card, checking Harry's date of birth. It's his twenty-first birthday. And that requires Zayn to smile extra wide at him. "Happy birthday, then." Zayn shoots Harry a smile that seems almost genuine as he hands him back his I.D. card, to which Harry shines a pearly white smile in return.

Harry pays for his groceries, which Zayn is thankful for, just because he doesn't have to deal with the obnoxious man anymore -- until he notices the small slip of paper left on the conveyor belt. 

Zayn lifts up the folded and ripped piece of paper and opens it, his eyes scanning over the writing, reading it to himself. It's Harry's phone number. Oh god, he thinks to himself as his face contorts into one of pure disgust and annoyance. He won't call him, definitely not. 

Zayn leaves work once his shift is over and makes his way back to his apartment, flopping forward onto his queen sized bed. He still fumes at how the man -- Harry -- looked so happy with his life, like he hasn't a care in the world. Zayn hates him. Zayn envies him. Zayn wants to be him. 

That night, he cries himself to sleep for the first time in over a year, questioning whatever higher authority that exists why his life has to be so damn terrible. 

He doesn't get an answer.


	3. Back Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is a bit of a filler, I don't know how else to describe it. You'll see. Feedback is welcome and appreciated!

The next morning at work, Zayn is a bit more prepared for his shift. He had gone to bed far earlier than the night before. Zayn stands in his line, moving random items that he doesn't care to know across the scanner as the older lady in front of him blabs, to which he doesn't pay any attention. 

"..and, goodness, the toilet paper should be in with the other bathroom supplies, sonny.." She rambles on, and Zayn pretends like he's listening giving a nod every few seconds. 

"Yes, ma'am, I'll get right on that." He replies, hoping that's the right way to respond, not really caring about what the woman was speaking of. 

A few people pass through his line until he notices the familiar face that he hoped he wouldn't have to see again. Harry. 

"I'm back again, and this time, for groceries." Harry chuckles in that same deep, monotone voice that he used the day before. Oh, how Zayn wishes he would just go away, but it definitely isn't that easy. 

"Green beans, cherry gelatin, and ginger ale?" Zayn raises an eyebrow at the strange items Harry's placed onto the moving conveyor belt before sliding them across the scanner in the most professional way possible. He places all of the items into a plastic bag and sets them on the separate counter, pushing the enter button. 

The way Harry smiles at Zayn makes him want to vomit and cry at the same time. Harry seems so content with his life, his awkward groceries, and his far too messy curls that fly every which way. 

"So, I was thinking, maybe I could take you out for a drink one of these nights? I know the best bar around, they serve the best margaritas. I'll pay." Harry stares at Zayn with a hopeful smile, sort of like the smile a kid gives their mother when they want a shiny new toy. 

"I'm sorry, I'm too busy for that." Zayn shakes his head quickly, despising the idea of going out with the boy, or even dealing with him for more than ten minutes. If the simple grocery trips make Zayn cringe on the inside, there is no way he can put up with the peppy lad for a whole high out. No way.

Harry's pearly white grin seems to diminish with the dejection, lowering his head as he hands Zayn the exact money for his groceries and leaving the store. And the sad part is, Zayn doesn't feel a bit sorry for the boy. 

He's probably got many other guys and girls pining for him every day, Zayn thinks to himself as he shakes his head, and continues on with his day. 

After his shift, he returns home. His body is still filled to the brim with jealousy, knowing Harry's fully content with his life and happy with being who he is. Zayn hates him for it. He can't express the envy that floods through his veins like ice on a chilled winter day. 

He wants to ruin Harry's life. Why should someone so naive and ridiculous have the life Zayn's always strived to achieve? 

And then, it hits him. 

Zayn rummages through his drawers in a haste and pulls out the slightly wadded up ball of paper with none other than Harry's cell phone number scribbled down in chicken scratch. Pulling out his own phone, he dials the number and waits as it rings once -- twice -- three times, before Harry picks up. 

"Hello, this is Harry." He answers in such a professional voice. He isn't a forty year old man with business plans, why would he disguise himself to come off as one? 

"Hey, Harry, it's Zayn -- you know, from the market?" Zayn speaks after clearing his throat, attempting to sound as truthful and genuine and nice as possible. 

"Oh yeah! Hey, mate, what's up?" Harry responds and Zayn can practically hear the smile forming on Harry's face, picturing the excitement in his mind. Zayn scowls at it, feeling his stomach turn with unease. 

He takes a deep breath as his fingers tap against his thigh, before he speaks in return, "You want a date? You've got a date. Pick me up tomorrow, eight o'clock. Don't keep me waiting." 

Without waiting for Harry to respond to his demand, he hangs up the phone and places it beside him in his bed. Surprisingly, Zayn can hardly wait. 

He doesn't cry himself to sleep that night. He smirks, knowing his plan and what's to come.


	4. The Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be focused on Harry for this part. Don't ask why, just go with it.

The next day is especially long for Harry, as he is ecstatic to go on a date for the first time in a few months. And with a really cute guy, at that. Harry doesn't know what attracted him to Zayn like a magnet, and the only thing he can really think of is the way Zayn's eyes sparkled with a bit of fake happiness. He could tell. He wanted Zayn, not just in a sensual way; he wanted to have Zayn for his own and to just hold him. 

He does whatever he can do to get him through the all too slow day, whether it's mindless word searches or watching the new cartoon that he despises. He just can't wait until it's time for the date. 

When the time arrives for Harry to go pick Zayn up, he's already ready. His curls are pushed up into a slightly less messy quiff, all of them seeming to fall into place. He's wearing a white button up dress shirt that's tucked into a tight pair of black skinny jeans, his signature combination. He tops it off with a pair of shiny new black shoes, glancing at himself in the mirror once more before snatching up his car keys and practically sprinting out to his truck. 

Starting the engine, he pulls out of the driveway and starts off down the road, playing the local indie rock channel over the radio in the background. He remembers the directions Zayn gave him and not too long after, he pulls into the driveway. He feels nervous, sick to his stomach, like a thousand bubbles just popped inside of him, but he pushes the feeling aside and bounds up to Zayn's front door.

Harry gives three solid knocks to the wooden front door before shoving his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet. He hears a bit of a clatter in the house before the front door is opened, and Zayn stands before him, looking far too beautiful to comprehend. He's dressed in a black long sleeved shirt covered with a leather jacket that contrasts just perfectly with his skin tone. The black skinny jeans he has on almost match Harry's, except they're definitely not as tight. And to finish his outfit, he's got a pair of sneakers, nothing too fabulous, just ordinary. But goodness, Harry thinks he looks completely perfect. 

"You look amazing." Harry gives Zayn a bright and pearly smile, reaching his hand out for Zayn to take. 

But Zayn doesn't take his hand, instead he pulls Harry into a hug, one that's a little more than friendly as he speaks, "And you look ravishing, Harry." He returns the smile as they both pull back from the embrace. 

Harry notices how Zayn looks different, maybe a bit happier, but who knows? He guides Zayn out to the car and opens the passenger door for him, to which he receives a soft "thank you." 

The ride to the bar is pretty quiet. Zayn keeps his hands in his lap and hums to himself as Harry drives, with one of Harry's hands placed on Zayn's knee. They arrive not much later to a slightly larger building that seems to almost vibrate with the thumping music. Harry holds Zayn's hand as they walk inside. 

"If you don't want to be here, we can go." Harry leans over to shout at Zayn over the loud music, noticing the bit of discomfort covering his date's face. 

"I'm fine. Let's get some drinks." Zayn shakes his head as he replies, tugging Harry off to the bar. 

Zayn orders six shots of tequila. Six. Harry thinks he must be crazy, but he goes along with it, seeing the bartender bring back all of the shots with a knowing smile on his face. 

Harry grabs one of the small shot glasses and raises it to his lips, and by the time he's finished with his first, Zayn's already started on his third. "Maybe you shouldn't drink so fast?" Harry asks with a glint of concern coating his accent. 

Zayn releases a loud laugh in response, shaking his head as the alcohol already starts to hit him, "I'm fine, Harry, let's dance." He tugs Harry's arm and pulls him over to the dance floor. 

The two are pressed together, Zayn in front and Harry behind him, grinding together in complete synchronization. Skin to skin. Body to body. Harry's in complete ecstasy. The way Zayn moves is like magic, swaying his body as graceful as a swan, in the most sensual way. 

Zayn leans his head back onto Harry's shoulder and releases a deep breath as Harry slides both arms around Zayn's waist, tugging him back tighter to him and allowing their bodies to rock together to the beat of the heavy and sensual music bouncing off the walls. 

Zayn's blissed out, the alcohol flooding his senses. All he wants is Harryharryharry and nothing else matters, despite his plan that he devised the night before. 

Once the song ends, Harry drags Zayn off of the dance floor and into the empty hallway in the back of the bar. He pushes the shorter lad up against the wall, grinding their hips together almost desperately as their lips crash together in perfect harmony. Harry wants to take him right there, to lift him up and have his way with him until he's begging Harry to stop, but he knows he can't take advantage of the drunken man. But that doesn't mean he can't help him. 

Harry lifts Zayn up and wraps his legs around his slim waist, eagerly grinding their hips together, causing Zayn to release deep groans in pure ecstasy. Harry knows Zayn won't last long, with the pleasure and the alcohol coursing through his veins. 

"Haaarry." Zayn groans out as he tosses his head back, pushing his hips desperately to Harry's. He releases a loud cry in ecstasy as he reaches his climax, making a mess in his jeans. 

Harry chuckles at the scene before him, a panting Zayn with a wet spot on his trousers, almost falling asleep on Harry's shoulder. "You're so pretty, like a Barbie doll." Zayn mumbles into Harry's ear as Harry carries him out of the bar and places him in the passenger's side of his car. 

"Thank you, love." Harry presses a kiss to Zayn's temple before making his way around to sit in the driver's side, starting up the engine. As he drives to Zayn's place, he has to hold Zayn in his spot, seeing the lad wantonly trying to climb into his lap several times. When they reach Zayn's apartment, Harry carries the babbling man up to his room, placing him on the bed. He helps Zayn change into some new clothes, knowing he won't remember it tomorrow. 

"Harry?" Zayn chimes in with a bit of a slur, gazing up at Harry with clouded eyes. 

"Yes, babe?" Harry replies as he slides an arm around Zayn's waist, a small smile curved at his lips.

"Stay with me?" Zayn pouts out his lower lip and makes what sounds to be a whimper, almost begging Harry not to leave.

"Not tonight, love, you get some rest and I'll see you soon." Harry presses a peck to Zayn's pouty lips before making his way back to his car and driving home. 

Harry definitely doesn't wank to what he experienced at the club, nope, he doesn't have the best release he's ever given himself while thinking of Zayn. 

Too bad he is such a gentleman. He kind of regrets not having his way with him. 

He falls asleep that night with a smile on his face and butterflies in his stomach. He has feelings for this lad. And he knows they won't go away anytime soon.


	5. Disbelief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone still reading! It means so much to me! I'm trying to update as quickly as possible. There will be 20-21 chapters and maybe an epilogue, I'm not quite sure yet.

Zayn wakes up the next morning with a throbbing, agonizing headache and confusion beyond anything he's ever felt. How did the date go? How did he get home? He's quickly brought away from his endless trail of thoughts as his phone buzzes beside him. 

"Mm, hello?" Zayn asks as he answers the phone with a groggy tone to his husky voice, rubbing at his eyes with his unoccupied hand. 

"Morning, darling. How are you feeling?" Harry chimes in through the cell phone speaker with a bit of excitement to his demeanor, and Zayn feels a bit of bile threaten to come up from his stomach. 

Zayn ignores the question, "What happened last night?" He prods Harry with the question he's been asking himself since he woke up just minutes before. 

"Oh, we went to the club, you had a tad too much to drink, grinded on me until you messed your jeans. I didn't know you could be so needy, Z." Harry chuckles lowly through the phone, sounding a bit lustful if Zayn isn't mistaken. "I brought you home, helped you change, and left."

Zayn looks down at his body, lifting the bedspread with one hand and noticing the change of clothing. Ah. "We didn't, you know, did we?" His voice quiets down almost to a whisper as he asks. 

"No, heavens no, I'm more of a gentleman than that." Harry releases a throaty laugh and Zayn rolls his eyes. He hadn't thought he could hate Harry more than he already did, he was wrong. "I just couldn't let you sleep in dirty, sticky boxers, could I?" 

"Thank you, I guess." Zayn forces out the most genuine tone he can muster as he allows his tongue to swipe over his lower lip. "Say, Harry, think you could come over later and see me? I miss you." He almost gags at his own words, clutching at his stomach. 

"What time would you like me over, babe?" Harry asks and Zayn swears he hears a little giggle through the phone. "I mean, whatever is most convenient for you, I'm fine with." 

"Give me an hour. And bring some Taco Bell, I'm starving." Zayn sighs softly as he speaks before hanging up the phone, not even giving Harry the chance to respond. 

Maybe he does that too often. 

Maybe Zayn should feel bad for leading Harry on. 

Maybe Harry shouldn't be so dumb and see through the facade. 

Maybe Zayn just wants this over with so he can ruin Harry Styles' life as he plans. 

And as soon as Zayn places his phone down, it begins to ring. He lifts his phone and checks the caller I.D. It's his work. He mentally curses himself for being so stupid. 

"Hi, Tiffany, listen, I'm sorry I didn't come in today -- " Zayn starts to speak, but he's cut off quicker than he can finish by an enraged female voice at the other end. 

"Zayn Malik, you are fired. I've had enough of your misbehaving and irresponsibility. Don't show your face in my store again." Tiffany snarls through the phone and Zayn can almost hear the metaphoric flames shooting out through her nostrils. 

He opens his mouth to beg for his job back, but there's a click, and the line is dead. His eyes well up with tears as he throws his phone aside, burying his face into the pillow, and he allows himself to cry. No job means no money. No money means no home. No home means back to the shelter. Zayn definitely doesn't want to go back there. 

He runs both of his hands through his tousled jet black hair before he swipes his fingertips over his eyes, cleaning them of any sign of tears. He's tired, too tired. Forgetting Harry's supposed to arrive soon, he flutters his eyes closed, and drifts off to sleep.

Harry steps inside the house unannounced after knocking several times and receiving no answer. He makes his way up to Zayn's bedroom, noticing he's fast asleep. He coos softly and climbs into the bed with the lad he assumes is his boyfriend, tugging Zayn into his arms. 

"Hello again, gorgeous." Harry whispers as Zayn flutters his swollen and teary eyes open, and Harry's breath gets caught in his throat. "What happened baby? Oh my, you were crying."

Zayn shakes his head in disgust, but doesn't allow Harry to know, and nuzzles his face into Harry's neck. "I got fired. I have no job anymore. I'm so stupid."

Harry stays silent and holds Zayn close in his arms, pressing little kisses to his temple. He feels guilty about all of it, like it's his fault that Zayn missed work, because really, it partially is. 

"I'll help you find a new one, okay?" Harry asks in a sweet voice and Zayn only cries harder onto his shoulder. Zayn thinks he's doing quite a good job at acting, and he's got the role covered. Harry's falling into the trap, plummeting at a rate that he cannot fathom, those sad and dark eyes bringing his heart to shreds. And he does as only his mother would do, reciting poetry. 

"I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Anywhere I go, you go, my dear. And whatever is done by only me...is your doing. I fear no fate..for you are my fate, I want no world, 'cause you are my world. Here is the deepest secret no one knows. Here is the root of root and bud of bud and the sky of the sky of the tree of life, which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide. It's the wonder that keeps the stars apart." Harry speaks in a low whisper into Zayn's ear and is able to lull him down from his sobs. He tightens his grip on Zayn and feels his heart thump and flip and scream in his chest. 

He may or may not be falling. 

\------------------------------------------

Credit to E. E. Cummings for the poem.


	6. The Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you guys I'm a slow updater. Aha. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter and any feedback would be nice if you'd like to give me some! I'm always open for some constructive criticism or ideas. Thanks!

Its been two weeks since that day, since Harry offered Zayn a place to stay. Zayn remembers how he wanted to refuse, how it took every fiber of his entire being to accept the generous, yet horrifying idea of being stuck in a household with the curly haired asshole. But he remembers he had agreed anyway. Anything is better than going back to the homeless shelter. 

Harry and Zayn pack up his things and throughout the day, they transfer them from Zayn's old apartment to his knew home -- a flat, decent sized, which looks more like a frat house than anything. Zayn notices the lingering smell of liquor and cigarette smoke, and he holds in the disgusted face that threatens to perch up on his lips. 

"There's only one rule in my home, parties are to stay smaller in size, but greater in quality," Harry starts as he places down the last box of Zayn's belongings onto the floor, along with the variously strewn other ones, before continuing, "But I didn't figure that'd apply to you, seeing as you're not really a party person, are you, Zayn?" 

With Harry's words, Zayn is thrown into a flashback.. 

"You aren't a party person, are you, Zayn?" Zayn's mum teased as she downed a swig more of Jack Daniels. He knew she had been far too inebriated to remember what she was saying, but it still hurt. 

"In fact, you're a fucking loser. You're no good, you have no friends. You're 15, you should have a life by now! People can't stand to be around you, because you're weak, you're too much of a mama's boy to even hold down a friendship." His mum continued, slurring at her every word as she pointed at him with her index finger. 

Zayn stayed silent, that's the only thing he was able to do. He couldn't hurt his mother, he'd be thrown out. But he knew how much he wanted to, how much he wished he could just slam her up against the wall and choke her with his own two hands. The hands she created. 

"Why aren't you having sex yet, Zayn? Are you not good enough for even the ugliest bird, hmm?" His mum teased with a loud and drunken laugh, tossing her head back in full amusement. 

Zayn's fists balled up in rage and tears flooded his dark and dull eyes. He left that night, he walked for miles in the pouring rain with nobody to go to. But he came back, and she was already passed out by the time they hit the door. 

That used to be an everyday occurrence to Zayn, and he blinks twice as he's brought back to reality by Harry snapping in his face, a look of concern covering his own.

"Zayn, Zayn you alright? You stopped talking for a bit there. Worried me sick!" Harry gasps as Zayn finally comes to, pulling the shorter lad into his arms and hugging his body close. 

"Yeah, m'fine." Zayn mumbles into Harry's shoulder as he takes in a deep breath, the feeling of disgust for Harry subsiding just a bit, long enough for Harry to hold him anyway.

It feels good to have someone around to just cuddle him at this point. Zayn allows his arms to slide around Harry's waist as he calms down, helped by the way Harry's lips seem to caress the side of his jaw.

Harry whispers soft and gentle words into Zayn's ear, "You okay there, babe? Is there anything I can do for you? I'm sorry, darling, I hope I didn't upset you. You're so precious, alright Zayn? You're perfect and amazing and lovely."

Zayn doesn't believe Harry's words, in fact, he feels the disgust piling back up in the pit of his gut. He shuffles out of Harry's arms and slides his own around himself, muttering quietly, "I'm fine."

********

They finish unpacking in almost record time that day, with every little item that Zayn has to his name randomly placed throughout the house, as though Harry's welcoming him further. 

Zayn and Harry cuddle that night, simply because Zayn opts out of sleeping in the guest bedroom. 

Zayn feels safe like that. Harry's arms winded around his body and pulling him closer, as though he can't get enough. His breath crawling down Zayn's neck, placing little kisses to Zayn's skin every once in awhile to show his affection. 

Zayn doesn't mind being held like Harry holds him, but he does mind that it is Harry. And he remembers there's a task at hand. 

But maybe Zayn figures he should focus on himself for once and allow this to happen. 

Before Harry drifts off to sleep, Zayn whispers, "Thank you, Harry. For being there for me. You've seen through me when others refuse to even take a glance. I'm putting my barriers down, I'm trusting you. Your endless affection is what I crave." 

Zayn thinks he did a good job at acting once more, because he can feel the smile radiating off of Harry as they both drift off to sleep.


	7. No Hard Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 300 hits! You guys are the absolute best. x

Zayn was right about Harry's home, it's nothing but a stomping grounds for the party animals. He hates it. The constant blaring hip hop music that could burst your eardrums; the half nude girls you'd suspect are underage but choose not to question; the empty bottles of beer and God knows what else scattered across the floor that somehow Zayn has to clean up. And this is a nightly occurrence. 

"Zayn, the guests will be here in a few minutes." Harry reminds him in a sweet and low tone as he fixes his ruffled curls in the long body mirror, as though he's unhappy with how they fall into place across his pale forehead. 

Zayn rolls his eyes when he's sure Harry isn't looking and he replies in a tone that flows out a bit more icy than he expected it to, "Don't you mean the entire town, Harry?" Harry doesn't respond to that, of course. 

The doorbell rings and Harry rushes to answer it, flinging it open to accompany the large swarm of people flooding the living room, carrying cases upon cases of beer. "This is the life, right?" Harry leans against the wall and gazes over to Zayn, eyes filled with admiration. 

"Yeah, Harry. It is." Zayn tries to hide the sarcasm in his voice before finding a way to sneak into the kitchen for a glass of water. He hates people. He hates crowds of them. And he especially hates social events, for the obvious reasons of course. 

He envies how Harry fits in so well. How Harry can talk so charmingly and smoothly to people he barely even knows is beyond Zayn's comprehension. 

Zayn sips on his glass of tap water for a few minutes before Harry intrudes on his moment of silence, or the quietest Zayn can get to silence for now. 

"Come on, there's somebody I'd like you to meet!" Harry says excitedly as he practically drags Zayn off by the wrist to the living room, stopping in front of a tall man about the same age as Zayn, pale white skin, shorter medium brown hair and a birthmark over his neck. 

"Zayn, this is Liam Payne, one of my mates from uni. Liam, this is Zayn Malik, my boyfriend -- wait, I can call you that right?" Harry speaks as he glances back and forth between the two males, making hand gestures to introduce them. 

The name hits Zayn hard, like a slap in the face and a kick to the gut. 

(Flashback.)

A hard hit caused Zayn to fall to the ground, blood pouring from his lips at the impact. Tears streamed down his face as the third boy kicked dirt at him, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Remember my name, Zayn! Always remember how Liam James Payne whooped your pathetic ass!" 

Zayn released a pitiful groan at the pain that surged through his entire little body, choking outwardly in an attempt to respond, which made the group of boys laugh. 

"You're gonna go to hell, Zayn. You're gonna rot there along with your mum." Liam hissed at Zayn and kicked him once in the front of the skull, knocking Zayn unconscious. 

Zayn almost widens his eyes at the flashback fills his memory, his dark orbs burrowing into Liam's head, practically shooting daggers as he spits out, "Yeah, the asshole who used to bully me back in grade school. I'm fully aware of who he is."

"Listen, mate, I'm sorry. I was immature back then and you were probably a swell lad. I apologize for anything I may have done. Please forgive me." Liam extends his hand out to Zayn with a frown curled downwards on his thin lips, looking pretty genuine from Zayn's point of view.

But that doesn't change what's happened. Zayn hesitantly reaches his hand out to take Liam's and gives it a firm shake, a little (fake) smile appearing on his lips as he speaks, "All is forgiven, thank you for apologizing." 

Liam smiles brightly as he returns the handshake, causing Harry to butt in and take both of their hands in his own. "Aw, my best friend and my boyfriend are friends now. Group hug!" 

Harry tugs them both into a tight embrace and for the first time ever, Zayn doesn't even cringe.


	8. Fake Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, lovelies. This chapter sort of came to me in a dream and I'm way, way, way excited to share it with you guys! Thank you for your support this far, each and every one of you mean the world to me. I hope you guys enjoy! x

Zayn doesn't know how it got this far. He remembers the alcohol consuming him for the third night in a row, and Harry doesn't mind. Zayn remembers when Harry brought out the marijuana. He remembers taking far too many hits off the joint. The next thing he recalls is being fully naked, Harry's body on top of his own, hot and heavy, skin to skin, lips pressed together in a fiery passion that Zayn can't remember he ever had. But he can't say he doesn't like it. 

His senses fill with bliss and Harry grinds his completely naked hips down to Zayn's, filling the air with guttural groans that sound like music to both of their ears. 

Snap back into it, Zayn, he thinks to himself as his snap open, trying to pry Harry off of his body. You don't like him, he's disgusting. You hate him. 

After a few moments of debating to himself, he is able to gently push Harry away, gaining a look of confusion and dejection from the curly haired lad. 

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry." Harry frowns deeply as he tugs the blanket up over his body, not touching Zayn in any way. It's almost as though he hides his face in the blanket, cheeks a bright red in embarrassment. 

"No, I'm just not ready for this," Zayn spouts off the fastest thing he can think of, feeling a bit sorry for Harry, although he knows he shouldn't. "I'm not good with this sort of thing, Harry. I'm sorry. Don't feel bad." 

Harry peers up at Zayn from over the blanket, a bit uneasy with himself before he responds, "Are you sure I didn't hurt you?" He asks as he climbs forward a bit, taking Zayn into his arms and holding him as close as he can get. 

"I'm positive. You were great, I'm just afraid of.. you know." Zayn whispers to Harry as he allows his face to nuzzle into Harry's creamy colored neck, staying there. 

"You're meeting my family tomorrow, by the way." Harry whispers to him, and without another word, they both drift off to sleep. 

But Zayn knows he's in for a riot. 

He'll have to fake more feelings for Harry. 

He'll have to lie to Harry's family, to their faces. 

He's in for a real fun time. 

***************

Zayn fixes the shirt that hangs over his shoulders once more as the two walk up the slender driveway to the front door of Harry's mum's house, "She's going to hate me." He whispers to Harry before Harry pushes the front door open. 

"Mum, Gemma, we're here!" Harry shouts louder than usual as he tugs Zayn into the flat, a wide smile plastered to his cheeks.

Two women appear into the living room with bright smiles on their faces, one older woman and one who seems to be a bit older than Harry and Zayn. They both approach Harry and tug them into their arms, hugging him tightly. 

"Harry, darling!" His mum coos excitedly and it gives Zayn the feeling that they don't see each other much. 

"Hi, mummy." Harry responds with a cheeky and proud grin, squeezing Zayn's hand in his own. "Mum, Gemma, this is Zayn, my boyfriend. Zayn, this is my mum, and Gemma, my sister." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. and Ms. Styles." Zayn speaks in a low tone and shoves his unoccupied hand into his pocket awkwardly, a little smile curving up onto his lips. 

"Harry's told us so much about you," Gemma speaks, and causes Harry to blush deeply, and his mum leads them off to the kitchen for dinner. 

It goes well, as well as it can go anyway. Harry's family seem to like Zayn a lot from what they both can tell. The entire dinner is filled with smiles and laughs and genuine feelings, even from Zayn. 

And that scares him.

He doesn't even have to fake it.


	9. The Hit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my lack of updates, my mom is in the hospital as we speak and I've had a lot going on. Thank goodness I'm finally able to update. Lots more fun stuff to come!

The bass through their flat pounds heavily and by now, Zayn is totally used to it. Every night it's the same story. Party starts at nine, rolls on until the wee hours of the morning. Zayn glances over to the clock mounted on their off-white colored wall, and it reads 11:35. He sighs heavily as he flops down onto the old, recycled sofa that Harry refuses to throw out. 

Speaking of the devil, as if on cue, Harry enters the room with a big brown paper bag in his hands. And Zayn is horribly afraid of what the bag may hold. 

Harry empties the contents of the bag out onto the end table and it shows much heavier things than Zayn has ever seen. Bottles upon bottles of pills, Harry introduces some of them as downers, uppers, and ecstasy. "Take what you want, I can easily get more. I want everyone to feel good." Harry speaks to the growing crowd of people around them, and Zayn feels really uneasy about all of it. The worst he has done was take a hit off of the blunt Harry rolled, but pills? Could he push himself to do it? 

"Haz, I don't think this is such a good idea. Can't we get caught for this? You bought so much." Zayn tugs Harry close to him with a bit of worry flooding over his voice, eyes glazing over with fear. But Harry laughs. He actually /laughs./ 

"It'll all be fine, Zayn. I promise. Nothing bad is going to happen tonight." Harry speaks almost silently as he lifts two of the "upper" pills, placing one in his own mouth and one on Zayn's lip, who hesitantly pushes it onto his tongue and swallows it. "Good boy." Harry chuckles and presses a chaste kiss to Zayn's lips, smiling brightly.

Things become very blurry, and fast. 

Zayn doesn't know what he's doing. It all happens so fast. One minute he's on his couch, staring at the ceiling, and the next minute he's in the middle of the room, dancing like a clown. He can't help it. The urge to move and dance and be free inhibits him and floods through his senses. 

His body presses against something tall and large, he assumes it's Harry. The way the body behind him presses against him, grinds wantonly, holds him far too protectively sends him over the edge. Zayn ruts back against the larger being like it's his source of life, to the beat of the song drumming through his ears. 

Everything seems beyond perfect, until he spots Harry across the room. The person behind him isn't Harry. He knows he's in trouble.

Harry storms up to them and pushes the two apart, instantly tackling the bigger man to the ground and landing several punches to his face, growling angrily. "That's my fucking boyfriend, you piece of shit!" He screams at the top of his brute lungs as he repetitively pounds his fist to the man's face, not a care in the world. 

Zayn tries to pull Harry off, he tries so hard. Harry keeps shoving him back and knocking him to the floor. Harry is determined. It's obvious Harry wants to hurt this guy, with the way his fist collides with the man's face. 

Sirens blare throughout everyone's ears. The door is knocked down with a loud thud. And two police officers barge in, yelling at everyone to "stay clear!" And "back away!"

Zayn takes a few steps back as the officers rip Harry off of the man, handcuffing his massive hands behind his back. Harry gives Zayn the look, and Zayn shoots him back a little frown. 

"Bail me out, babe. You have to come get me." Harry shouts back at Zayn as the officers haul him out of the house, reciting his Miranda rights to him as though he could possibly be listening to them.

Zayn actually tears up as he sees the officers load Harry up into the police car and seatbelt him in. Harry presses his forehead to the window and looks back at Zayn through the open doorway, mouthing, "I'm sorry," and soon Zayn can't see the police cat any more. 

He dismisses the people from his house, flushes all evidence of any illegal substance Harry had bought that night, and drives his way down to the police station. 

He has to save his boyfriend. 

He has to.


	10. Bailing Out Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is bailed out of jail and Zayn finds out a detrimental secret of his past through a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written this damn thing four times, and my internet has somehow failed every single time. Let's try it again. Basically Zayn bails Harry out of jail. Inside the asterisks are a dream. Ooo.

Zayn speeds down the street in his worn-down coupe, the gravel chips kicking up and chipping the paint on the underside of the car, but Zayn can't bring himself to care about that. The only thing that runs through his brain is the fact that his boyfriend is currently sat all by himself in an empty jail cell, with nothing to eat, no privacy, nothing to occupy himself with. It bothers Zayn to think about. His fingertips pound angrily at the wheel, and within minutes, he's pulling up into the parking lot of the local police station. 

Slamming the car door behind him, he sprints up to the front and main doorway of the station, flinging that door open and glancing around him before he approaches a uniformed lady behind a quite large desk in the middle of the dull room, and he waits to gain her attention.

"What can I do for you, sir?" The lady asks as she fixes one of the buttons on her light, sky blue colored button down that Zayn assumes is part of her uniform. 

"Harry Styles is here, right? I, um, I'm here to post his bail. How much is it?" Zayn asks with a curious tone to his voice, pulling his wallet out of his jeans pocket. He's worried that he may not have enough money -- he should've brought Harry's wallet. 

"Harry Styles? Let me check for you." The lady speaks and she types some things into her computer, followed my clicking on something, which Zayn assumes is Harry's record. The tension fills the air before the lady begins to speak again, "Harry Edward Styles, hmm. The charges seem to have been dropped for his case, but the bail will be $50 for the holding fee."

A pang of relief hits Zayn and he pulls out the money that's needed to get Harry out, handing it to the lady, who shoves it into a little lockbox. She then motions for Zayn to sit on the empty bench until they can get Harry's files completed. 

The seconds feel like hours as Zayn waits, checking the clock every 27 seconds, to be exact. After a total of five minutes, the lady reappears into Zayn's sight, followed with a large guard that uncuffs Harry. 

After being uncuffed, Harry practically jumps into Zayn's arms, a little mewl escaping his lips. "You saved me, baby. You saved me." 

Zayn hugs Harry as tightly as he can get him and flutters his dark eyes closed, a small hum passing through his lips. Harry is so warm against him and it feels like he's crying -- he is, he hears a sniffle. "Shh, babe, let's get you home." Zayn lifts Harry up into his arms and carries him out to the car that he forgot he left running. 

Placing Harry in the seat beside him, he drives them back home, carrying him inside and laying him down on their shared bed. Zayn crawls in beside his boyfriend and tugs the boy into his arms, a little sigh emitting from the back of his throat. 

"Thank you." Is all Harry can manage to get out before he nods off to sleep, and it causes Zayn to smile, soon drifting off as well, forcing him into a very vivid nightmare..

*********

"You're a worthless piece of shit, you know that?" Zayn hears his father scream at his mum, "You're good for nothing and I wish you were dead!" 

Zayn's in a crib, he glances around, and he's a baby. He sobs and wails for attention but it doesn't matter. 

He spots his mum picking up a butcher knife from the kitchen and hides it behind her back as she shouts in return, "You're too masked in your obscene amounts of cocaine and heroin to do what's right for this family. You've never done what's right for this family. We have a /baby/ together! You have no responsibility! You've never wanted to fix things for any of us, but right now, I'm going to."

Zayn sits up in his crib just in time to see his mum bury the knife in his father's back, and with that, he's drawn back out of his sleep, and into reality.. 

*********

Zayn awakes with a loud gasp, causing Harry to jump up from his own sleep, alarmed, pulling Zayn into a tight embrace. "What happened? Nightmare?" Harry asks in a voice that's as soothing as he can possibly make it, spotting the tears rolling down his boyfriend's cheeks. 

"I know what happened to my father, Harry. I know why he's never around." Zayn manages to push out through loud sobs and whimpers, reality hitting him hard. 

"What, Zayn?" Harry tilts his head in curiosity. 

Zayn brings both hands up to wipe at his tear ridden eyes before he takes a deep breath, exhaling in a low and fragile tone, "He's dead."


	11. Chapter 11: A Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you all for sticking with me. I update really slow, I know. I've been addicted to online poker and my girlfriend. Ha. Okay, well, um, yeah. In this chapter, a very big promise is made and we learn more about Zayn's mentality.

It's been six months, since they first started dating. Six long, choppy, hard, jealousy-filled, nonsexual, hello-and-goodbye months. But neither one of them seem to mind. Zayn's learned that it isn't so hard to put up the front of having feelings for Harry anymore. He considers the lad a good friend. 

"That cloud right there looks like a bunny." Harry points up at the cloudy blue sky with one hand, the other one clutched onto Zayn's as they lay in the grass side by side. "Or a giraffe. I can't tell."

"You think you'd be able to tell by now, Harry. One's massive and the other one is little!" Zayn chuckles loudly as he shakes his head, eyes darting over to the cloud that Harry intently points at. "And I think it looks like a turtle."

"A turtle that was crossbred with a giraffe and a bunny, yes." Harry teases as he nudges Zayn in the side, a content sigh passing through his soft pink lips, and everything feels right with the world. "I've got something for you. But you've got to guess it."

"You know I'm terrible with these things, Haz." Zayn whines as he pushes himself to sit up, folding his legs up into a pretzel shape as he thinks. "Hmm, is it edible?" 

Harry laughs out loud as he tips his head back, clutching his hand over his heart with amusement. "If you ate this, I'm pretty sure you'd die." He shakes his head and sits up as well, laying his legs out over Zayn's lap as he hoists himself into it.

"Is it a turtle that's crossbred with a giraffe and a bunny?" Zayn flicks his tongue out over his plump lower lip as he speaks, a playful smirk curved upon it.

Harry hits him in return.

"I'm serious, Zayn! This isn't a joking matter, babe. It's a real present." Harry huffs and shoots Zayn a fake glare, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll just have to show you, since you're a shit guesser, now won't I?"

Harry reaches into the pocket of his jacket and fumbles inside of it for a quick moment, before he pulls out a little velvet box, clutching it in the palm of his hand. "Zayn, we've been together for six months, and as far as I'm concerned, I've never been happier in my entire life. It's like everything falls into place when you're around. Will you take this promise ring, and vow that you'll be mine, and keep yourself for me, forever?" Harry asks as he opens the little velvet box, revealing a silver band with a little heart engraved in the top. 

Zayn's eyes shoot open. And for a second, he feels like his heart is going to explode out of his chest. "Yes, of course. Yes." 

Harry smiles all too brightly and slides the ring onto Zayn's finger, admiring his handiwork, enjoying the bit of silence that they seem to never get. His eyes well up with tears at the thought of spending forever with Zayn. He's definitely falling for him. He knows it. 

And that's when Zayn hears it. 

'No, don't do that, he doesn't love you like he says he does!' A hiss of a voice sounds in Zayn's ears, and he jumps in place, suddenly frightened by the words that seem to have been let out by nobody. 

"Did you hear that?" Zayn's voice becomes shaky as he asks Harry the simple four word question, staring into his eyes. 

"Hear what?" Harry tilts his head to the side, a look of genuine concern plastered onto his features. He opens his ears, as a metaphorical way to speak, and listens for any sound of what Zayn might have heard. 

'He doesn't want you. He just wants to get in your pants.' The voice sounds once more in Zayn's ears and he lifts his hands up to cover them, a little whimper falling from his lips. 

"Stop it! Stop it!" Zayn shouts in response to the being that he assumes isn't really there, tugging his knees up to his chest. 

Harry begins to panic. He tries to tug Zayn into his arms, but it's no use. He can't fight it. 

'Don't do it, Zayn. Don't let him stray you from your goal. Don't let him get to you!'

And that's when Zayn realizes, it's his own voice that he hears. And everything soon turns black. 

**********

Zayn's eyes flutter open and he notices the room around him. He's at the hospital. He doesn't know how he got there, or how long he was out, but he really doesn't care. 

He spots a nurse bringing in some pills and setting them on his bedside table, babbling on about how he should be more careful about what he does, and how the "psychiatrist recommends he get lots of rest and take the medications like he's supposed to in order to see any sort of good changes."

The nurse explains to Harry that Zayn's schizophrenic, and that the doctor placed him on an antipsychotic medication in hopes of calming him, along with some sleeping medication to help him at night. 

As much as Zayn wants to fight her on it, his entire body feels weak. He doesn't want the medicine. He doesn't want any sort of treatment. He's fine. The voice is just his own. It's all in his head. He's /alright./

"It'll be okay, babe. I promise." Harry whispers to Zayn as he takes Zayn's hand in his own, sliding his thumb over Zayn's knuckles, his eyes tearing up: the only emotion he's certain of.

And that's when the voice rings through Zayn's mind once more. 

'You know what you have to do.'


	12. Chapter 12: The Turning Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! Yay for a smut scene.. And a few other details. You'll figure it out on your own. THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FOR UNSUITABLE EYES. READ THE TAGS.

Today's the day, Zayn thinks to himself, a jolt of worry flooding his mind. Today's the day he's going to have sex with Harry. Of course they planned it, and all of the little details involved. Zayn can hear Harry's voice echoing in the back of his mind, "You'll top, because it'll be more comfortable for you. I bought a bottle of lube, too. And a bunch of condoms, I know how you like to worry too much."

 

Harry definitely was right, Zayn likes to worry too much. As he lays himself out on their shared king sized bed, stark naked, with only a white cotton sheet covering him from the waist down, he begins to wonder about how the night will go. His mind drifts to the thought of Harry beneath him, eyes rolled into the back of his head, blissed out. Zayn definitely doesn't get hard from the thought of that, nope. 

He turns his head to the side and gazes over at the clock which reads 7:28 PM. Harry should be home any minute. Zayn registers that in his mind and his eyes practically bulge out of his skull. He makes sure everything is set up for their big night. The bottle of lube is placed strategically on the bedside table, check. The condoms are beside the lube, one foil sitting out of the box, check. The lights are dimmed to a perfect glow, check.

Zayn is soon pulled out of his endless train of thoughts as the bedroom door is flung open, and there stands Harry, a little smirk curved up on the corners of his lips at the sight of his all too beautiful boyfriend almost completely naked on the bed. Harry's tongue darts out over his lip before he removes his button up shirt with haste, letting the material fall to the floor. 

"You look so beautiful." Harry's usually deep voice drops an octave, his thumbs dipping into his tight black jeans, pushing them down his hips and to the carpet. He climbs forward onto the bed as Zayn pushes himself to sit up, nudging Harry backwards onto the bed and slotting himself between the boy's spread legs. Zayn practically rips Harry's boxers off, the sight of him splayed out beneath him turning him further on than he has ever been. 

"Are you ready?" Zayn asks in a soft and delicate tone, brushing the tips of his fingers over Harry's prominent cheekbone. 

Harry gives a slow nod in response, a little smile perching itself onto his thin, pink lips. "Just take it easy on me, please." He replies with a breathy tone, his eyes flickering over Zayn's masculine features as though he'd never seen them before in his life. 

Zayn shakily reaches out for the condom, unwrapping it from the foil and pulling out the latex tool, rolling it over his length and making it look far more difficult than it actually is. Harry giggles girlishly at it, though, finding it cute that Zayn is so nervous. 

And soon, Zayn's already reaching out for the bottle of lubricant. He slicks up his first three fingers and pushes Harry's legs open further, hesitantly rubbing the pad of his index finger to Harry's entrance. 

"You're not going to break me. I'll tell you if it hurts." Harry speaks with a soft laugh and pushes his hips down to reassure his boyfriend, to which Zayn gives another short nod. 

The first finger seems all too easy, no drag at all as he slips it in and out of Harry. The way Harry's eyes flutter closed and then back open as he chases the pleasurable feeling sends a tingle to Zayn's lower half. The second finger, a bit more difficult, the amount of friction increasing. Harry whimpers out at the slight pain that floods his body, but he tells Zayn to continue anyway. The third finger seems to spark something in Harry, as when Zayn pushes it inside him, Harry's body jolts up and he keens high in his throat. 

"There! That feels so good!" Harry vocalizes the pleasure to Zayn, who feels a bit more confident in his work, a smirk covering his lips. 

And its then that Zayn deems Harry ready to take him. Zayn carefully slides his fingers out of Harry and wipes them off on the blanket, before he slicks up his length over the condom, positioning himself right at Harry's willing hole. 

"Go ahead." Harry reassures Zayn once more and wiggles himself just a bit, a little laugh escaping through his lips. 

Zayn doesn't know how he musters up the courage to do it, but the next thing he knows, he's pushing his entire length into Harry, bottoming out after a few moments. Zayn swears Harry lets out a high pitched moan at that. 

Harry gives him the signal to move and soon, Zayn's thrusting his hips forward and back, a small circular rhythm to his movements, which Harry seems to like quite a lot. 

"Zayn, yes!" Harry hisses out as his fingernails claw down Zayn's back. Zayn feels his primal instinct take over, and he starts pounding into his boyfriend, who screams out in pleasure. 

Zayn wraps his fist around Harry's length and strokes him in time with his thrusts, and Harry's the first to orgasm, shooting his load up onto his stomach and a dribble on his chest with a loud shout. That spurs Zayn on, and he gives a few more erratic thrusts, burying himself into Harry as he releases inside him. 

They lay like that for a short moment before Zayn pulls out of Harry, gazing down at him with the sweetest, gentlest smile he's ever given someone.

"I love you." Harry whispers up to Zayn, tears filling his eyes at the overwhelming moment between them. 

And the voices kick in again. "You know what you have to do, Zayn. Don't fight it. Don't fight it anymore! Come on!" The voice screams in his ear, like he's facing himself and shouting at himself. 

Zayn lifts the pillow up from beside him, and his heart thumps in his chest. He tears up himself, but a scowl forms on his lips. 

"Zayn, what are you--" Harry tries to get out smoothly, but soon he's cut off. 

Zayn smashes the pillow into Harry's face and holds it there as tightly as possible, tears streaming down his cheeks. Harry's screams of desperation are muffled by the feather pillow over his mouth. His body shakes and he tries to force Zayn off of him, but Zayn doesn't let up. 

The fight Harry puts up slows down to a pathetic twitch, and soon, he's limp and lifeless, arms falling back to his sides. 

Zayn lifts the pillow up and throws it to the floor, cuddling himself up to Harry's body. Sob after sob parts through his lips as he clutches tightly onto Harry, the tears wetting his boyfriend's skin.

What has he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't abandon my story just yet. You'll like the way it ends.


	13. Holding On So Tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn continues on his rampage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry I haven't updated this. I sort of drew a blank and I forgot to update it. But here's the next chapter. Please forgive me.

Spinning. Everything is spinning. Nothing makes sense. 

 

Zayn clutches to his head as he stands up from the bed where he's sat, the scent of a decomposing corpse flooding his senses. He wretches, leans over to the side to release the bile from his stomach, the acid burning on the way up. _How long has it been?_ Zayn doesn't know. He's lost all sense of time, the clocks dissipating into the back of his mind. 

 

The voices still remain. They scream at him continuously and endlessly, never giving him a rest.

 

_"You've got to finish your mission, Zayn! You're not done yet!"_

 

_"Don't let them get away with the hurt they've caused you!"_

 

He glides his fingers through his tousled and unwashed locks of dark hair, tears rolling down is tanned cheeks. He doesn't want to. He can't do as they tell him to. It's not fair. Why him? Why do they have to target him? 

 

He forces out a sob as he plants himself back down on the bed, next to the limp and lifeless frame of his boyfriend. Anyone else would be repulsed by the way his skin looks beyond greyed, his pores emitting an aroma that could gag a maggot, but not Zayn. No, Zayn clings to that very frame, holds onto it for dear life, because he needs Harry. He _needs_ him, and he's not there anymore. 

 

It takes him a while to compose himself, to stop crying, to pull himself together like a big boy. But he does it, allowing the figure that once contained Harry's angelic soul to fall back against the blood stained mattress. The voices grow louder, and louder, until the point where Zayn can't bear to listen to them anymore.

 

"Stop! Fucking stop! I can't do this, I can't!" Zayn vocalizes his frustration as he curls in on himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and tugging at the ends of his hair. His teeth grit as he rests his forehead against his knees, hissing out through his teeth. 

 

And the voices can tell he's losing it. They pick up on the energy he exudes, and it only fuels them further, or so Zayn articulates. 

 

Zayn pushes himself up from the bed and slips on a pair of shoes, tugging a robe on over his naked and sweat-drenched body. It's like a spark ignites somewhere inside of him, and he has to listen to what they say. Maybe if he listens, they'll stop. 

 

He manages to find the car keys somewhere in the middle of getting dressed, and he pads his feet out to the driveway. Sliding the front door open, he plops himself down in the seat, hands gripping far too tightly to the steering wheel placed in front of him. His motions are robotic, almost as though he's on autopilot, and before he knows it, he's in the back alley behind his mum's house. 

 

He makes his way up to the back door and allows himself in, knowing she doesn't keep it locked. With tiny tiptoeing motions, he finds himself up the stairs in her bedroom, peering down at her sleeping figure. It's sickeningly beautiful, as he knows this will be the last time she'll get to have peace. His hand lifts up and he flicks the light switch on, kicking the door closed behind him.

 

"Zayn, what are you doing?" His mum asks as she awakes with a startle, rubbing her eyes to make sure she's not dreaming that he's there.

 

"What happened to dad?" Zayn questions immediately as he finds himself at the edge of the bed, eyes wandering around the neatly cleaned and decorated interior, not seeming to pay any attention to anything else. His heart thumps audibly in the confinements of his chest, the air filling with tension so thick that the both of them could practically taste it.

 

She hesitates before her lips part to speak, "I told you, honey, he left us. He --" She's cut off as Zayn slams his fist down on the end table, his teeth gritting as he growls in an almost demonic tone.

 

"Tell me the truth. What happened to dad?!" Zayn shouts at her, the apples of his cheeks flushing a pale color, alabaster, almost lifeless, as his boyfriend had been.

 

"I had to do what was right for us, Zayn. You have to understand." Her voice comes out as soothingly as possible, and she knows that he knows just what's happened. She runs her fingers through her messy and sleep-ridden curls, nervousness clearly on display.

 

"You didn't have to kill him. You didn't have to off him like he was nothing! He mattered! He loved you! He.. loved you.." Zayn's words trail off as he's reminded of Harry, and a sudden wave of guilt washes over him. He feels as though he's already said too much, and that's when the voices kick in.

 

_"She knows, Zayn. You'll have to take care of her, too."_

 

_"Do it, Zayn. Do it. Nobody will find out if you just do it."_

 

The fire alights in him once more, and his legs lift him up, his hand wrapping around the thickness of his mum's neck. He presses down on the front of her throat, cutting off her air circulation. She struggles against him, lets out inaudible yelps of pure agony as she gasps for air, any sort of oxygen. But he doesn't even allow that. His other hand winds to cover her mouth beneath his sweaty and calloused palm, squeezing harder around her throat.

 

"This is what you deserve. For killing dad. For ruining my life. For allowing everyone to hurt me. _This is what you deserve._ " The words flow out of Zayn's mouth as his eyes darken with pure hatred, his glare boring into her eyes like daggers as he cuts off any sort of life she's got left. It doesn't take long for her to stop fighting, for her to realize she's lost the battle, and for her entire body to completely collapse against Zayn's hold. She's gone. He drops her carcass onto the mattress and sneaks out through the back door, into his car, and he drives home, mind on auto pilot, as the voices have ceased for now. Zayn climbs into bed with Harry, holding his odorous and rotting body all too tightly, and he sobs against him, wracks of tears taking over his body, like every night before he had met the boy. He's not okay.


End file.
